Artemis: Entropy
by Rokhi
Summary: No team. No friends. Artemis sees her family and her life descend into chaos. AU.


**Act I: Order**

Artemis knew four years of peace before her world shattered. She knew Mommy and Daddy and her big sister, Jade. She knew that they were a family and that they loved her. She also knew that Mommy and Daddy did bad things.

Their small sixth-floor apartment always stank of sweat, sports gel, and leftover Vietnamese cooking. Artemis and Jade opened every window as soon as the weather turned warm, but only when Mommy and Daddy were home. They were not home often.

One day, she realized Mommy would not be coming back. She begged Daddy to find her and bring her back, so she could cook _hủ tiếu_ noodle soup and dumplings and read stories and tuck them in at night. Daddy said Mommy had been hurt and the doctors took her to a place where she could get better. He said they could not see her for a long time and that they had to be strong and learn to take care of themselves.

Jade did not believe him. She thought Daddy was lying. Artemis did not know what to believe; she only knew that Mommy was gone and that Daddy was angry.

After that, Daddy started the training.

 **Act II: Descent**

North Gotham High was a hell unto itself.

Artemis holed up in the back corner of the classroom each period. She tried to sink into the shadows, to become invisible and disappear completely until people forgot she had ever been there. Mom could do it, even in a wheelchair. Every thought of Mom sent a jolt of rage thundering through her veins. It made her think of Dad.

Jade could do it, too. She did it the night she left.

Artemis tried to please Mom, to be good enough for two daughters. She maintained high scores in her classes. French required less attention than the others. Gym was the most trying period of the day.

Sports, running, martial arts—it all came easily to Artemis as if she had been born to perform each fluid, coordinated form. However, in this class, she never did better than average. Every turn, kick, throw, hit, and catch unleashed indelible memories of bygone days made present—of clashing sai and sword and bow; of muscles so sore the heart all but stopped; of punishment that tore nerves, broke bones, and spurred fear to flee; of sleepless nights spent bathed in blood. Of Dad.

 **Act III: Spiral**

Star City University, pre-Med. Mom said she wanted her away from the danger and violence of Gotham. Artemis heard what she never said. She wanted her away from temptation. Neither Dad nor Jade had contacted them in years, but their ghosts were ever present, gnawing away at the shreds of control holding Artemis in check.

She went to Star City and lived in the dorms with other students who laughed and drank and partied as only those who had never known pain could. Artemis was a shadow in their midst. She attended classes with them, lived and bathed in the cramped confines of university housing with them, and wasted nights away at the surrounding bars and clubs with them.

She never drank—her hold on herself was feeble enough without the booze—but she watched them. She saw the jocks laughing over their latest sports conquests and remembered the strongest athlete she had ever known laughing over the latest stiff corpse. She saw the girls gliding and grinding on the dance floors and remembered the most graceful dancer she had ever seen twirling her swords around and around until she alone rose from the stage. She saw the lowest of the low covertly drop little white dots into drinks, unable to drag their eyes away from the sight of tiny bubbles rushing to the surface as they dissolved. She saw _his_ eyes, eager and triumphant, secure in the knowledge that he had absolute control.

It was always that image that broke her.

Too soon, she knew each brick and dumpster of every bar's back alley. She was no hero; they just presented easy excuses to beat the crap out of something.

It was in one of these alleys that she found a red arrow through her shoulder, its owner swooping down from the rooftops. The irony was not lost on her. She learned every weapon during those years without Mom, but she had excelled at the bow, killed with the bow—and been punished with the bow.

As soon as he stood and looked at them, she pinned to the brick, the other unconscious and bloodied, Artemis saw alternating states of confusion and partial comprehension play across the masked archer's face. Situations like this were usually just as they appeared for him, she imagined. The one losing needed help, and the one winning must be the bad guy.

She broke the feathered shaft of the arrow in her shoulder and stepped forward. The man she dragged from the bar was face down in his own blood, his nose flat and gushing. She crouched down and rolled him over; the hero made no move to stop her. She pulled the bottle of little, white pills from his coat pocket and tossed them at the archer. Not waiting to see what he made of it or did next, Artemis grabbed her jacket from atop the crate by the bar's back door and left.

She never saw that hero again, although, every once in a while, she could swear she felt eyes watching from above.

 **Act IV: Crash**

A quarter of a semester into her senior year, Artemis received the call that splintered and cracked every inch of the life she had fought and bled to rebuild.

It came late, just after dinner. A stern, deep voice said it was the police, that they had gotten a call. Artemis knew what came next. She could already feel her throat closing, choking out air. She could feel her muscles coiling and tensing, unable to move, but ready to spring. She did not hear the rest of the officer's rehearsed script, attempting sympathy while pecking for information. She was furious.

Artemis went to the bar alone that night. She sat at the farthest end of the counter, away from the regular crowd with clear sightlines on all exits. She ordered one Scotch on the rocks after another until she could no longer feel the dull thumping of her heart; until she could not hear the silence surrounding her, pressing at her ears; until she could not see the nothing and nobody left.

She remembered walking out of the bar and down the street sometime very late, or very early. Beyond that, nothing. Artemis woke up in her dorm room bed, the familiar mattress squeaking beneath her and the blankets slipping over the edge.

Sitting up brought a tidal wave of nausea and spinning sight. She was glad for it. She was weak; she was human. And she was alone.

She washed, packed her things, and caught the next train to Gotham.


End file.
